Free Dragons & Butterflies: Sentenced to Die, Choosing to Live by Shani Krebs Page A

usual crew assembled in the driveway. This consisted of myself, Sammy Lasker, Charles Goldman, brothers Eric and Leo Niedermayr and Colin Coats, who wasn’t actually an Arcadian but had proved his loyalty and become a staunch friend. The two junior boys joining us for the first time were David Graff and Steven Landsman, aka Fanny. Taking the junior boys with us was irresponsible, but nothing new for the harum-scarum boys we were. Our logic was that, sooner or later, they would be bunking out on their own anyway. None of us really considered the consequences of our actions.
    Armed with our weapons, some of us even wearing balaclavas, we stealthily made our way out of the grounds, via the hill, passing on the side of the Goldsmith residence. The hospital construction site provided a maze of adventure. Our relentless quest for excitement was insatiable, and the fact that we were fearless made us unpredictable. In addition, our defiance of authority was growing. It was a trait inherent in most Arcs.
    Chained to one of the streetlights inside the hospital premises was a three-wheeled bicycle cart, the type with a large bin on the front, often used by milkmen to do their deliveries. Some of the boys tried to pull the chain apart, but without success.
    ‘Let me have a go,’ said Colin.
    He grabbed the chain with both hands and pulled with all his strength, and to our amazement the lock popped open. Triumphantly, he mounted the saddle and gestured to us to jump into the bin. We all piled in and raced off down the hill, screaming our heads off. Because of the excessive weight and the speed we were travelling at, Colin lost control and crashed into the sidewalk, while we all went flying in different directions – what a gas! We laughed our heads off and bolted from the scene.
    We then made our way to Roedean School, where, on previous outings, some of us had actually met a few of the girls, who seemed to quite fancy us. Already familiar with the terrain around the property, getting in and out was only a matter of manoeuvring from one side to the other. The only obstacle that presented any actual difficulty was the 2m-high steel fence topped with barbed wire, but this we climbed with relative ease. We entered the grounds, which were dimly lit, and made our way to the front of the building. I was feeling uncomfortable; there was something eerie about the place. The silence was unnatural. Unbeknown to us, lurking behind us in the shadows someone was watching our movements. We congregated in front of the main building and then, at the top of our voices and in concert, we began reciting the song ‘Three German Officers Crossed the Line, Parlez-Vous’, and so on. Lights started coming on in different sections of the building, and then we heard a dog barking. It wasn’t a very convincing bark, so we paid it no attention. It sounded like a poodle maybe.
    But then, rising above the barking, came a coarse masculine voice that sounded awfully close.
    ‘What the hell are you doing here?!’ I could have sworn it was a German accent. As one, we turned and streaked off across the grass. The next thing we heard was a gunshot. Colin was a little to my right, but we were pretty close to each other and I heard him swear under his breath.
    ‘Ouch, my leg – I’ve been hit!’ He doubled over, obviously in pain.
    Then there was another shot.
    ‘Nonsense,’ I said, trying to reassure him. ‘That was a cap gun or a firecracker. Come on!’
    We had all run in different directions, but we had agreed beforehand that, if anything happened and we were separated, we would meet in The Wilds by the fishponds. I had taken the lead, and so far Colin was keeping up with me but again he pleaded that he had been hit. Fanny was further back and just off Colin’s right side.
    As I ran, I couldn’t help wondering to myself what kind of lunatic would shoot at a bunch of kids. Minutes later we were all at our appointed rendezvous; everyone was accounted for,